Forbidden
by sLaYeReTTe
Summary: --> Forbidden --> A B/S novel, set post 'Wrecked'...my first attempt @ BtVS ff, please R&R~! --> 4th Chapter has been added!
1. [Chapter 1: Forbidden]

Title: Forbidden

Author: . sLaYeReTTe .

Disclaimer: It wasn't me! Too bad though –chuckle- the praise and thanks goes to Jossy!

Setting: Post – 'Wrecked'

Summary: Willow struggles with addiction, and Dawn, while Buffy struggles with emotions.

Rating: Heavy PG-13 to an R…don't wanna get *busted*

[**Chapter 1: Forbidden**]

Days had passed. Months maybe. Willow lay stricken in the solitude of her bed, frail body tucked beneath the ivory sheets, consulting the morbid darkness in her gloomy state of depletion. Her hair, remained uncombed, laying in an ample mass of frizz, and tangled locks. Her complexion lacked color, and under her eyes, were large 'bags', indicating the sleepless insomnia she encountered each night. Willow grunted as the faint sound of harmony made itself audible within the listless confinement of her room. The brief sound of feathery pinions flapped relentlessly upon the curtained pane, and Willow emitted a deep sigh, unable to lift herself from the perpetual emaciation which shrouded her life, suffocating the Willow she…and the ones she loved cared for.

There came a knock upon the door, and Willow stirred, praying it would be Dawn.

"Willow?" The door opened, and the slayer walked in, gently securing the entry to its frame and taking a seat on the bed.

Willow sank into the mattress.

"Wills…you haven't been out for days now, and –,"

"It's all my fault," Willow murmured, pallid lips parting slightly in the effort to speak.

"Willow…," Buffy trailed off, unsure of what to say, knowing…it was _really_ her fault.

"I shouldn't have listened to Amy," the girl under the sheets rasped, tone heavy with regret.

"Willow…you didn't know," Buffy consoled her fallen comrade.

"Maybe I did! I had to…the addiction…," Willow began to sob, pale body heaving with grief, and it made Buffy wince at the dolorous sight her friend had grown to become.

"Yes…but you've gone days now without magic…you're already fighting it," Buffy encouraged weakly, grabbing a tissue from the cardboard box.

"So what," Willow shrugged, sagging against the headboard. 

"Okay Willow…I just came up to let you know I'm going out on patrol, and I hope it wouldn't kill you to _try_ to get out of bed and make sure Dawn is okay," Buffy said, rising and grasping the door knob.

"Sure," Willow nodded listlessly as Buffy exited, unwilling to stand another minute with the melancholy witch. 

* * *

Buffy Summers stalked upon nimble feet, her usual job as 'village sentry' beginning as she made her way through the many rows of aging stones, avoiding treading on the marble tombs which were settled upon the verdant clay. Hands lowered to feel the smooth wood of her weapon of choice, and she carelessly leapt towards the north side of the shady necropolis to commence in Saturday night patrol.

The stake rose, elevated equal to the slayer's pate, twirling within adept digits with the skill and talents of the chosen one. Her entity within the dead realm became noticeable by one, and she gyrated as the acute hearing picked up on the muted rush of footsteps within a distant coppice, and tangle of shrubs. Tenuous limbs slowly delivered the slayer to the emerald brush, stake raised, awaiting the lunge from the hidden nemesis.

The distinct sound of a raged roar filled Buffy's ears, and she ingeniously stepped backwards, as the surge of ebony and peroxide blonde fell in a heap at her feet. Tawny ooids rolled skyward, resentment and disappointment plain on the femme's features.

"Figures," she shrugged, trekking from where Spike lay and towards her post.

"I knew you'd be glad to see me," he said huskily, pursuing the slayer. 

"Spike, don't you get it when I say I don't want you around me?" Buffy gyrated upon her heel, orbs gazing with frustration at the admiring vampire.

"Of course I do love," he smiled.

"Really?" She snorted and continued walking from his enticing presence.

"Slayer," he darted in front of her, burly form blocking her hopes of escape. 

"Spike, move out of my way," she grumbled.

"Slayer…hear me out," he demanded, stepping to the left as she attempted to rid herself of his looming shadow.

"Buffy…," she winced…and wished he would call her 'Slayer'…for Buffy seemed…all too intimate.

"Buffy…I love you. You know it. But bloody hell! What do I have to do?" He stared down on her, eyes boring into her own as his passionate speech sank into the apathetic brood. 

"Spike…I told you…you're a vampire, and I'm a slayer…am I the only one who sees a problem?" She pleaded, wishing he would just let her go before he got to her.

"Yes love…I guess you are," he replied, his gaze softening. 

"Spike…I…," she began to lose control…control she had spent gaining and building up in the short period she had been…without the blonde vampire.

He leaned closer, lips grazing hers in a sensuous fashion, and the tedious motion taunted the slayer until she gave in, lips crushing his, sultry spreading quickly with each gentle embrace. Her scent enveloped the vampire, making him a weak. His hands, expert hands desperately slid up her shirt, fingers tracing shapes upon her bare skin, and he was delighted when he felt the raised result of goose bumps, creeping over the slayer. 

She shivered, and he pulled her closer, expertly maneuvering the duo towards the security of the brush, and together they tumbled, unfazed from the descent to the pillow of pine needles. Buffy's slim curves nestled tightly within Spike's brawny appendages, her hungry mouth closing in for a craving only he could satisfy, and together they lay entwined within each other's needy grasps, unaware of the movement outside their lair of erotic passion.

* * *

Willow awoke from her nap, cat-like orbs scoring the cavernous realm of her room, and she yawned, lids fluttering slightly as she struggled to regain consciousness. She couldn't quite remember how long ago she had fallen asleep, thus turning to the digital clock on her bedside table for reference. _Nine thirty. _Willow shrugged and slumped back into the pillows, choking down a sob. She remembered why she was in her room…and why she was feeling empty and resolute. It was all her fault. 

Then from retrospect, a reminder. She recalled Buffy leaving for patrol, and asking her to watch Dawn. A tear trickled down her cheek and Willow carelessly wiped it off, sitting alone in the derelict silence of her own room, cogitating what to do. 

"Oh," she mumbled, unable to fight the tears any longer.

And then the questions came, flooding her in a cataract of resent and scorn towards herself.

"Why did I have to listen to Amy? Why did I allow it go this far? Why was I so addicted?"

She screamed the interrogation to the walls, which simply creaked their response, and she fell forward in a rush of tears and misery.

There was a knock on the door. _Probably Buffy._ Willow thought dryly, and did not cease her tears, torso heaving with great chokes and sobs, drenching the quilt and her lips with the brackish taste. Dawn entered, and Willow looked up, taking in the wreck the youth had grown to be in the last few days. Her hair had been brushed, _Buffy probably_, and it hung from her skull in a thick mane of straight mahogany with a light sheen to it's many strands. Her arm lie cradled in a gauzy sling, lined with fleece and bandaged in alabaster fabric.

"Oh Dawn…I'm so sorry," and Willow lost control, weeping with self-hate, and sympathy for the girl.

"Willow…," Dawn murmured, searching for what she wanted to say.

"Dawn, it's all my fault, I'm so sorry," Willow wailed.

"Wills…I was disappointed. I was mad…and angry…and I don't think I can ever forgive you…but I want you to know…I don't hate you," Dawn whispered hurriedly, eyes averting to the riveted carpet.

"Really?" Willow stalled her blubbering, chin raising ever so slightly, revealing her pitiful complexion and it made Dawn cringe and squirm with guilt.

"Uh…yea…really," Dawn nodded.

"Oh goddess! Thank you!" She resumed crying again, and before Dawn could protest, gingerly embraced the thin teenager, wary of her handicapped arm.

Dawn pulled away and forced a smile, before slowly leaving the anguished Wiccan to replay the scene over and over again in her head, taking and hour to realize the experience was real. 

~The End~

[Side notes: So…what'd you guys think? Was it okay?¿ Well I have yet to add the other chapters, so hang in there ^_^ -cheeky grin-]


	2. [Chapter 2: A Revelation]

Title: Forbidden [Chapter 2]

Author: . sLaYeReTTe .

Disclaimer: Jossy, Jossy Jossy!

Setting: -coughs- right after the first chapter ^_-

Summary: Willow and Dawn find themselves talking…while Buffy constantly fights her attraction to Spike –drools-…while the slayer and the vampire sort things out, two unexpected visitors take a trip to Sunnydale…

Rating: Heavy PG-13 to R

[**Chapter 2: A Revelation**]

Spike mingled within the piles and stacks of towering crates, piercing blue eyes never lifting from his subject of admiration. The slayer stood stock still, illuminated by the glowing sphere which hovered over an all too quiet Sunnydale, and he sighed, gazing upon the embellished femme he yearned to make his. The quiescent state of the murky ally made Spike shiver with anxiety…not that he was afraid…certainly he wasn't afraid! _Perhaps concern for the slayer _he reasoned.

__

Bam!

A crate from the top stack toppled, descending the now unstable heap of wood, and a whole row collapsed atop the blonde vampire. He moaned, lost within the stacks and rendered motionless with the weight of the carved timber. He heard the sound of fighting, and immediately closed his eyes, imagining the battle within his mind, depicting a flawless Buffy, fending off from the nefarious beings, which haunted Sunnydale.

The sound of an 'oomph' reached his ears, and he winced as if feeling the pain himself. He once again struggled to free his pinned arms from the debris, but it was no use. Soon he detected the distinct swirl of dust in the evening breeze, and let out a brief sigh of relief, grateful it was over. 

He heard footsteps.

"Buffy, love…a little help?" He rasped, acknowledging the heavy crate, which lay upon his heaving torso. 

"Spike!" He couldn't help but smile at the concern in her feminine tone.

"Over here pet," he managed, wincing as the weight began to shift, inhuman strength delivering the slayer to his side.

"Spike…what were you doing here?" She inquired, once he had fully been released from the pressure of the boxes.

"I was taking a stroll, love," he answered nonchalantly, brushing the shavings from his ebony garb.

"Spike…look, you need to stop following me," she growled.

"I was not following you!" He snapped.

"Oh really? What were you doing then?" Slender arms crossed pointedly across her ribs, resting just beneath her bosom. 

Spike fought to keep focus.

"I was…er…I was-,"

"Exactly," Buffy snorted, backing up.

"Hold still love, you look perfect right…there," he smiled cynically, scrutiny lowering from her sun-kissed features.

"Spike! You're such a pig!" She crossed impudent fingers across a humble chest and set off, not giving a second look back at her follower.

"And how many times have I heard that?" He raced after her at a light sprint, stopping her with his dominant frame. 

"Get out of my way."

"Make me," he challenged, a smile on his face.

"Fine, you asked for it," a single fist contacted his nostrils sending him flying to the damp asphalt as she carelessly masqueraded over his fallen figure, departing from the ally where her hours of sentinel patrol had not even been close to ending.

Spike nursed his swollen nose and cursed angry slurs at the slayer who wasn't there. All is fair in love and war right? Bloody hell. He sat upon the ground, contending and moaning as the pain intensified, multiplying as he attempted to touch it.

"Ouch!" He howled, blatant cry erupting into the empty darkness.

"Save it darling…you'll be needing your screaming voice for tonight," a familiar voice crept into his auricles, barely audible from the conjuring steam in the next building.

"Drusilla?"

"Spikey…mummy's home," the singsong voice he had spent years adoring made him shudder and squirm.

"What are you doing here love?"

"Now, now…you and the slayer. I knew it. I saw it in my visions," still no body to match the voice.

"Dru, come out from where ever the hell you are," Spike growled, growing tired of her tedious games.

"Oh but Spikey…all in due time," her tone broke to a whisper, and from out of nowhere, four burly vampires leapt from the corner, and then, all Spike could see was the steadily contracting darkness, consuming his vision and crippling his body.

* * *

Willow concentrated carefully on the setting before her, blasé scrutiny of the backyard of Buffy's dwelling soaking in the periwinkle hue of the cloudless sky, the crisp autumn breeze, which ruffled her straight crimson locks, and the verbose melodies of the many darting birds. A wistful sigh escaped her pale lips, and her brow furrowed in deep thought, staring into the elusive, blue abyss.

"Willow," Dawn interrupted her thoughts, approaching the seated witch from her left.

"Oh hey Dawnie, have a seat," Willow smiled blandly, resuming her thoughtful gaze.

"You're not…," Dawn trailed off.

"Hmm? Oh no! Using magic? No way…I'm just staring…trying to fight the addiction."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Willow?"

"Yeah Dawn?"

"I'm sorry I…I smacked you," Dawn attempted a good-natured laugh.

"Oh, that…no biggie!" Willow grinned.

"Yeah…and…I think…I'm being unfair to you," Dawn confessed, fiddling with her fingers, not daring to look up.

"Dawn…no, you're not being unfair. If I wouldn't have let it get this far…you wouldn't be stuck in that thing," she motioned to the sling.

"Oh…it's not a big deal…I'm getting used to it," Dawn smiled.

"That's great Dawn…and did I mention that I'm really sorry?"

"Yeah…and did I mention I'm sorry too?"

"Yeah."

"We're even," Dawn whispered.

* * *

Spike awoke in his crypt, and it took him several tries to pinpoint where he was. He attempted to move, but released a cry of pain when a strain on his wrists, legs, and neck held him back. Barbed wire. Bloody hell! The iron lacerated his vulnerable flesh and he cringed as the pain shook him from head to toe, causing him to lie as still as he could.

"Spikey…you're awake from your nap!" The playful voice crept into his left ear and he shuddered.

"Dru, love, let me go," he reasoned.

"Let you go? Mummy's just getting stahted! Oh Spikey…you've been a bad boy," Drusilla giggled and stepped in front of him.

"But Dru-,"

"Ah ah! Sh! I wanted you to be awake for this," Dru drew a knife from its sheath, and watched incessantly as a gleam reflected on its blade. She advanced on his helpless body, gingerly removing his shirt, staring upon the distinct sculpture of his torso, and giggled with delight as she took the knife to his chest, engraving her own name within his flesh, laughing a heinous laugh while he writhed in pain.

"Drusilla," she repeated her own name, and moved to his stomach area, contentedly carving designs in this newly accessed region.

"Dru, please," he pleaded, eyelids shut tight as the pain gnawed at him like an ailment. 

"Spike…do you remember the last time I left you?"

"No…," he lied.

"Yes you do…I know you do. You begged me to stay," she grinned.

"Dru…-,"

"Well you don't love mummy anymore…," she pouted.

"Dru, really," Spike attempted pleading once more.

"oof!" Her palm flat against his sculpted cheekbones delivered a shock to his system and his head was whipped to the side.

"Don't play games with me Spike. You made a mistake, and now you will pay," she sent a few more punches and jabs to his face, leaving him brutally and physically 'broken'.

"But don't worry Spikey…it'll be over soon…no wait, I lied," she chuckled at her own humor and continued with the torture, unable to stop herself from what fun she was having. 

The last thing Spike remembered was a painful blow to his chest, knocking the wind from his system.

* * *

Drusilla finished his punishment by sunrise, and left the window wide open, wickedly departing as the first rays of light crept onto the floor. Slowly, slowly towards the chair in which he was bound to…and then it hit his chest, causing him to jump, a low, husky howl emitting, inaudible to the outside world.

Angel crouched low under the window and when he heard the exit of the vampiress, he hid his flesh from the sun and jumped through the casement, slamming the window closed upon its hinges and pulling down the drapes. He heaved and took in the wreck his 'progeny' had become with the destruction and cruel intentions of Drusilla.

"Spike…are you okay?" He asked, desperately working with callused digits to free the younger beast of his bindings.

"Buffy…," he mumbled, willing his eyes to open…but they remained swollen closed.

Angel froze.

"Um…no, just relax," Angel murmured. 

Spike obeyed, body falling limp as the older vampire released him from his prison, delivering the injured to the couch, digging through a nearby closet to find a blanket.

"Wh…who are you?" Spike managed, lips blown up.

"No one," he retrieved a cup of blood from the refrigerator and willed the youth to sip from the plastic mass.

Once the cup had been drained, Angel left, without a word, heading for the slayer's house.

* * *

"Buffy! Hey!" Willow greeted her friend as she returned from her daytime errands, quite surprised to see Willow up and about.

"Um…hey Wills," Buffy smiled as Willow wrapped her in a hug.

"Oh, I'm collecting my witch craft materials…I'm going to burn them tonight, you're gonna' come watch with me right?" 

"Yea, sure," Buffy nodded agreeably.

"I want _everything_ destroyed," Willow added vigorously.

"Okay…"

"Well, I left my one spell book over at Spike's…would you mind running over there and getting it?" Willow asked.

"Sure…no problem," Buffy nodded again, unsure as to what ailed her to answer that.

"Thanks so much!" Willow drew her in another hug, friendly in her embrace.

* * *

"Spike? Knock, knock!" Buffy called as she entered his crypt, surprised to find herself…seemingly alone.

She walked towards the couch where a slight ruffling was heard. She paused and peeked over the back.

"Spike!" Her tone came out shocked, concern and worry hitting her like a kick in the gut and she instinctually rushed to his side.

"Buffy…," he murmured.

"Spike…what happened?" She choked, withdrawing her hand upon his chest as he moaned in pain.

She slowly peeled away the blanket from his sweaty body, devastated to find it drenched from hydrosis. Carvings were clearly inflicted upon his skin, and she winced to find the name Drusilla across his chest.

"Dru…," he managed, coughing from the effort of speech, still unable to open his eyes.

"Sh," her finger gently grazed his lips, silencing his parted labrums.

He struggled to move his body, but she silenced all attempted motion and lifted his peroxide blonde cranium, setting it down on her lap after she sat, sinking into the aging mattress. For moments they sat in silence, one hand rested on his cheek, the other stroking through blonde tresses as she consoled his pain, and whispered her thoughts into the falling darkness.

She lowered her head, and he stirred as the 'shampoo commercial' golden locks fell in a veil over their faces and her lips hovered over his.

"Buffy," Angel had halted halfway towards the couch, stunned by the sight he saw.

"Angel!" She jumped up in surprise, causing Spike to howl in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry Spike!" she slowly laid his head down, stroking his forehead.

"Angel…I didn't know you were here," she stammered.

"Same to you," he nodded.

"Angel…when did this happen to Spike?" Buffy gestured to the couch.

"Last night…Dru caught him after patrol I think…I found him in here this morning," Angel answered.

"Oh…has he eaten?"

"Yeah…I'll watch over him tonight," Angel offered.

"No…I will," Buffy took the responsibility, "I'll be over this way anyway," she added.

"Right."

She waved and slipped from the crypt, thankful to meet fresh air and space.

* * *

That night, Buffy returned, opening the window, allowing the air to circulate throughout the musty domicile. She slid over to the couch, and kissed him. He groaned, but found the strength to return her kiss, and then she moved to his neck, kissing away the pain on his chest, arms and legs, and for it, the hybrid nemesis was grateful. 

He was drowning in her. Her smell…her affection…and it made his head swim…he felt light headed, and fought not to pass out. He indulged in their physical contact and whimpered as her tongue found his, once again, he felt somewhat restored.

Buffy couldn't believe what she was doing. She was kissing Spike willingly, and her impetus instincts drove her in for more. Swollen fingers fumbled clumsily at her blouse and she helped him, unbutton the silky material. She slid from her alabaster tank top, and helped him once more when he ripped desperately at her skirt, frustrated with the amount of fabric he had to tear away. 

"Slayer…," he grumbled, pulling her close.

[Okay….watta ya think? ^_^ Whoo….!!]


	3. [Chapter 3: Moment of Truce]

Title: Forbidden [Chapter 3]

Author: . sLaYeReTTe .

Disclaimer: Jossy n' da crew 

Setting: Sometime after _Chapter 2: A Revelation_

Summary: A possessed Buffy rampages in search of a sacred pendant

Rating: PG-13 to R -shruggies-

[**Chapter 3: Moment of Truce**]

Buffy Summers roved over towards the campus grounds, nonchalant as the commencing darkness slowly taking reign over the sun-kissed heavens. She was diligent, and her body seemingly was always in a defensive poise. Recent reports of two deaths on the school grounds had aroused the slayer to a night of investigation. She reached the main doors, and gazed into the on-looking crowd, which hung over the crime scene like a suffocating veil. 

"Excuse me, coming through," she announced, pressing her way through the woven assembly with much difficulty.

There were two bodies, side by side upon the small arch of the staircase, and oddly enough…no blood. She stalked upon nimble feet under the police tape and examined the specimens. One male, and one female, both looking fairly older than herself…she searched the bodies for wounds…no incised gashes or even fang marks. 

"Slayer," the familiar, raspy voice filled her ears.

"Spike," she turned around abruptly, almost knocking herself off balance.

"What have we got?" He asked.

Buffy was puzzled by the 'business-like' interest he took…usually he made his first priority her. 

"Um…two bodies, they look a few years older than me…one male one female. There are no marks or wounds or even teeth marks…it's weird," she answered flustered.

"Ah," he nodded thoughtfully.

"Ah? Any ideas?" Buffy inquired anxiously.

"Nah…but with you…I could get some ideas," he chuckled humorously, and Buffy's mahogany optics rolled skyward.

"Save it Spike," she answered to his perverse comment.

"Whatever you say love," he smiled and watched her as she bent down to inspect the corpses, which lie upon the concrete. 

"Ugh, Spike get down here," Buffy demanded, feeling his eyes upon her.

"All right…it must have been an internal problem," he offered.

"Okay…probably," she agreed, "Come on, let's get to the magic Box."

"But why? I was hoping you and I could…," Spike whined.

"Spike! Could you pry your mind from sex for one moment so we can figure this out?"

"I'll try…it won't be easy love," he grinned and nibbled affectionately on her ear.

She lost control for a moment and closed her eyes.

"Spike! Control!" Buffy reminded him as his lips strayed to her nape.

"Oh…right pet, control," he withdrew his visage and followed after her departing form, enjoying his position in the rear.

* * *

Xander Harris remained stagnate, hunched over the ancient text, absorbing the musty script. His wife-to-be sat next to him, and every so often he looked over to make sure she was still on task…instead of looking for wedding accessories. 

"Find anything?" He asked her, raising his head from the readings and rubbing his eyes.

"No…I still don't even know what we're looking for," Anya shrugged irritably.

"A little touchy aren't you dear?" He questioned tiredly.

"Well it's just that…I don't want to be here looking for something we don't even know anything on, when we could be planning the wedding," Anya replied.

"Honey, I told you a million times we're looking up that chest over there," Xander motioned to the aging chest which sat solo atop the far shelf.

"Well…I still don't see why we're researching this. When you and Buffy opened it, all that came out was…air," Anya replied indignantly.

"Yea, but still…you know very well that 'air' could have been something," he argued.

"Whatever," Anya resumed research without another word.

"Look honey, I'm sorry…I'm just a little stressed," Xander added, walking over to her chair and resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh no it's fine…I understand demons come before your wife," Anya snapped bitterly.

"That's not true! Demons are…gross…ugly…and demented."

"Xander! I was a demon once!"

"Well…you're not anymore though…my wife is a beautiful, lovely woman whom I'm deeply, and madly in love with," he smiled a goofy smile which made Anya want to melt.

Xander lowered his face and kissed her, indulging in their moment of affection and pure love.

"Oh, spare me please," Dawn muttered, walking over to the duo and defiantly opening one of the books.

"Oh…hi Dawn," Anya smiled resentfully, once again hiding her face within the pages of the book cradled in her hands.

"Hey Dawn," Xander nodded taking his seat.

"Hey you guys, did you find anything out?" Willow strolled towards the Scoobies and grabbed a book.

"So far, no luck," Xander reported.

"Oh…well Buffy and Spike went to investigate those bodies," Willow shrugged.

"Those two have been spending an awful lot of time together…don't you think?" Xander inquired.

"Well…even if it's true…they can't possibly be…well, you don't think…?" Dawn stammered as the revelation hit her.

"Nah…Buffy wouldn't go for Spike would she?" Anya scoffed, "I mean please-,"

"Hey you guys, I'm back," Buffy proclaimed, with a mesmerized Spike following at her heels.

The Scoobies froze. 

"What?" The slayer froze, looking around with an apprehensive glance.

"Oh, nothing, have a seat Buff…Spike," Xander nodded, pointing to two chairs.

"Well…I have news on the deaths. A male and a female, both found dead side my side…there were no marks or lacerations…not even teeth marks so we concluded it has to be something inside of them," Buffy informed the coterie.

"Okay…inside…but what?" Xander asked.

"That's what we have to find out," Spike answered impatiently.

"Spike," Buffy warned when she saw the resent across Xander's features. 

"You guys! I found it!" Dawn jumped up excitedly.

"What is it?" Anya asked.

"It's the chest of Shaziim, some Arabic dude-like demon," the youth answered, "It says Shaziim was considered one of the most powerful reigning demons of the nineteenth century in Egypt. He had the power to destroy buildings and even cities with one blow of his psychic powers…but only with the aid of the Kalarei Pendant, a sacred necklace which had been buried near the Hellmouth when he was reduced to a spirit by two whole armies. His spirit was locked in the chest of Shaziim…here's the picture, and if it is opened, it will release his spirit," Dawn recited. 

"Bloody hell," Spike murmured.

"No shit," Xander agreed.

"Does it say anything else?" Buffy scrambled to find anything more on the topic, "It says here he inhabits a host…and during his residence he will drain any mental and physical energy that body possesses until the body dies…then he will infest a new host."

"Oh my," Willow gasped.

* * *

"You know Buffy…I've been thinking," Spike whispered.

It had been a few hours since the Scoobies had rallied and found the truth of the Chest of Shaziim. Spike had offered to walk Buffy home, and she had of course declined in front of the group…but he had followed after her when she had left, and she had not protested against his presence.

"Oh great," she replied sarcastically.

"What if this thing really does infest one of us…did we ever find a cure in those few hours we were trapped in there?" The British vampire asked, enunciating each line perfectly.

"No…but we will," Buffy assured him.

"Oh…right, of course," he nodded thoughtfully, stroking a clean-shaven chin.

They walked in silence, both aware of how close they walked together, and the radiating heat from one another. 

Soon Buffy's house came into view. Spike approached the door along with her, and for a while, he stood there, taking in the opulent feeling he felt when he feasted his eyes upon her slim, petite frame. And she did the same, wistfully gazing upon the clinging black shirt, which roughly defined his sculpted torso.

"Buffy…," he breathed.

"Spike…"

"May I come in?" He dared the question.

"Um…sure," Buffy agreed, and fumbled with the lock for a moment, her cheeks heating with slight embarrassment for her momentary inability to comply with a simple key.

Spike just watched her idly, smiling to himself as she finally swung open the oak tag door, and entered, discarding her jacket to the coat rack. He did the same and trailed after her into the kitchen.

"Do you want anything?"

"Nah…I have my meal waiting at home for me," he answered.

"Oh that's right…sorry," she flushed again, and this time Spike's amused chuckle was more audible.

"You make me crave you love…I don't know how you do it," he walked towards her, reaching her pert configuration in two sweeping strides, head bent, angular to hers.

His gaze bored upon her lips, and Buffy felt faint, as if he was burning her with just his eyes. Her labrums trembled and he kissed her, arms encircling her waist with intense desire. One hand inched up, resting atop her ribs, just below her cupped breasts, and she groaned softly, as he guided her through the door and into the other room, steering her for the couch. 

They sunk back, fused together as one with Spike's firm grasp, and they landed, his lean frame atop hers…never breaking away from the sweltering position. The blonde vampire heard her grunt, and he rose up slowly, elevating and breaking their connection as he removed his own shirt. 

"Spike…we shouldn't be-,"

He stopped her flow of speech when he kissed her again, tongue probing the sultry caverns of her mouth, and he tasted her…never quite being able to get enough of the desirable slayer. 

"Buffy! Spike!" The abrupt interruption of a two shrill female voices broke their lust fever once more, and they looked up to see Willow and Dawn gaping with utter confusion.

Buffy pushed the vampire from her body and briefly messed with her hair, which had become quite ruffled from their moment of 'play'.

"Uh, um it's not what it seems," Buffy stammered.

"Buffy…Spike…Buffy…Spike! Ah!" Willow reached for her cranium and took it in her grasp, attempting to take a hold of what she had just walked in on.

Dawn on the other hand smiled.

"I knew you two were up to something," Dawn admitted, a smiled upon her younger features.

"You see love, she was onto us," Spike commented.

"Shut up Spike," Buffy snapped.

"Buffy I think it's romantic!" Dawn's simper widened wistfully.

"She thinks it's romantic!" He reasoned.

"Spike!" Buffy shot him a warning glance.

"I knew I always like you," he grinned insanely at Dawn, who blushed as deep as Buffy had.

"Buffy…how come you never told us?" Willow begged for an answer, still in slight shock.

"Um…um…because…I, I."

"Yeah Buffy…how come you never told them?" Spike demanded.

"Well because…I, I," Buffy stuttered a few more lines and darted from the room, dashing up the stairs and disappearing into her room.

"Buffy!" Spike called after her, "Be back Red."

He pursued the slayer…not a new routine, but at least he was an expert at it. He twisted the knob and to his dismay, found it locked.

"Come on love, open up," he pleaded, knocking.

No answer.

"Buffy?"

Still, no answer.

"Buffy, come on, open up!" He shouted, banging on her door angrily.

His rage sent his fist pummeling through the wooden door, and the minuscule splinters littered the carpet on the other side, and there upon the bed sobbing he saw his object of affection. He grunted as he broke through the door the rest of the way and sat at her side, perplexed with her attitude towards him.

"Buffy…," he said, tone ending to a more mollescent degree. 

"What?" She heaved.

"Buffy…never mind," he shrugged the feeling of reject from his shoulders and embraced her softly, drawing her close.

"There, there pet," he whispered, lips grazing her ear lobe.

"Spike…I'm sorry," she muttered in between smothered sobs.

"Don't apologize love…I understand," he lied.

"No…I, I-,"

She was silenced by his finger, and they sat together in the darkness, entwined within each other's firm hold. Too consumed as they lay together, unaware of the crepitating floor outside of the broken door where Willow and Dawn had stopped to take peeks into the room.

"Spike…," she breathed suddenly, as her body took on a tremulous wave causing the peroxide blonde to jump with surprise, stepping back to examine her spasm. 

"Buffy!" he shouted with concern, advancing upon her shaking configuration and holding her softly until the tremors and shivers subsided, leaving her limp in his grasp.

"Buffy?!"

"Mmm," she stirred, her head rising slowly, and when he turned her around to face him, he could have sworn he saw a faint glimmer of incandescence in her enticing irises, only to fade as quickly as it had come. He blinked.

"Buffy?" 

"Mmm…you're…Spike," she answered in an eerie tone…almost unlike her.

"Buffy?" He puzzled once more.

"Spike…you're a vampire…yes," she nodded again and released herself from his embrace and marched out the broken remains of the door, blasé as she did so.

"Buffy! Wait! Where are you going?" Spike dashed after her, suddenly aware he was still shirtless.

"Must go to school," Buffy replied, her tone resembling a monotone automaton. 

"But Buffy….it's one o'clock in the morning," Spike protested, eyeing her with suspicion. 

"Oh…well I must go for walk then," Buffy nodded, finalizing her own proposal and turned upon her heel, exiting towards the door.

"Wait!" Spike shouted after her, and when she didn't stop, he leapt the rest of the stairs and followed her out the door she…or it had left ajar.

"Spike…leave Buffy alone now," Buffy commanded, increasing her speed to gain distance between her and the male vampire.

"But wait Buffy….why?" 

"No reason…just go," Buffy replied.

"But…aiight fine then," he halted, taking it to his advantage that she didn't look back, and so he followed her again.

* * *

Buffy awoke somewhere in a strange dimension, sprawled upon a swirling loam and a matching background. A callused palm rubbed her aching skull and she moaned with the pain, which brought with her movement. 

"Where am I?" she questioned to herself, scrutiny never lifting from the eccentric realm.

"Ah Buffy Summers. You are in the recesses of your own mind…and I…I Shaziim have chosen you…slayer for my third host," a disfigured countenance appeared, hovering just above her head and she shuddered.

"What do you want with me?" She demanded, managing an unfazed tone.

"What do I want? I want a body that's strong and adept…proficient and able to fend of questions and other people…and I've been watching you for quite sometime…to know that you're the perfect candidate," he chuckled.

"So you're in my body? I'm in my body?" She asked, perplexed.

"Yes…and I will use your body to find me the Kalarei Pendant…so I can make myself whole again," Shaziim informed her.

"No!" She struggled mentally and physically, and then she felt a malfunction in her body's movement.

__

Yes…it was working!

"I don't think so little miss…I am impossible to fight…your strength will quickly fail…I have one week before your skin and bones becomes just another discarded piece of clothing to me, and within that span, I will find that necklace," he vowed.

"No…you can't….you don't even know where it is!" Buffy challenged.

"Ah…but I do…the last two students I infested found me a great deal of information before they became useless…," Shaziim whispered. 

"Oh no," Buffy whispered, as she looked on through a small window where she could see what _she_ was doing...or her body was doing in the outside world.

* * *

Spike persisted with the chase of his favorite slayer, watching the rigid carraige of her svelte...not a normal posture for the gracile femme. The heavy clunk of his spiked footwear became less and less audible as he willed himself to a light, nimble step, pausing to hide behind a tree or two when Buffy..._it_ turned around to make sure nothing was following...it. 

* * *

Buffy remained still, her knees embraced by her linked digits as she rocked back and forth upon her haunches, eyeing the scope which showed her external sight. Something was behind her...her clairvoyence was stunning, but she still felt it...and she suspected her body felt it when it occasionally gyrated to scan the pavement at its back.

"Whoa!" She shrieked as her frame was thrown to the ground from an enigmian source, and then she did a roll as she was flipped onto her back.

__

Spike!

"Spike!" She screamed desperatly, willing her own self to speak that elusive title.

"Buffy? S'at you love?" He peered questioningly at her.

"Spike! I'm stuck in here, please, it's not me...please he-,"

"Don't try that Buffy dear...you're wasting your strength," Shakiim's punishing voice boomed through her entrapment, "Your own thoughts and wishes will only willingly be spoken through the first few hours of your infestation...after that, you're powerless to me," Shakiim's parched lips smiled cynically.

Buffy watched as Spike cocked his brow...he must have heard the internal conflict between the two and he gasped, shooting back with shock.

"I don't know who, or what you are...but get out of _my_ Buffy!" Spike growled.

"You're Buffy? Seems she's mine now," Shakiim replied lazily.

"Get out now...I warned you," Spike threatened.

"Ha! Do you think your pitiful attempt at threats would faze me? Shakiim the Supreme?" Shakiim thundered his masculine words, only to have them come out in an imperious tone to the blonde vampire.

"Get out!" Spike literally went insane.

He advanced, rugged, feral fingers grasping Buffy's cranium and shaking it violently, he growled and spat scathing remarks, and resiled nimbly to watch the reaction of the possessing creature. Buffy, or Shakiim lunged with full presision, striking at Spike's eyes and raking her nails down to his lips and Buffy...on the inside shuddered. Shakiim landed a kick on Spike's stomach, sending him hurtling back and then he jumped on him, knocking the wind and breath from Spike's system. He stood back to admire his handy work.

"You see Buffy...don't even try to get yourself help...I will destroy them!" Shakiim announced imperiously, focusing the vision upon the fallen Spike, rasping and heaving, struggling to get air into his crushed lungs and Buffy bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. 

"Stop...please...stop!" She pleaded, falling to her knees with grief.

"Okay...fine...but let this be a lesson...and you," he turned to face Spike, "You keep out of my way...or I will crush you permanently next time," Shakiim warned, a last punch landing on Spike's nose when he attempted to rise.

* * *

"She's gone...we need to get help, I need to get her out...Red!!" Spike burst through the door of Buffy's dwelling, shouting his demands to the silence, awaiting Willow to appear from upstairs.

"Spike?" Willow protruded from her doorway, claoked in obvious sleepwear, one fist rubbing at her eyes, indicating her fatigue.

"Red...she's possessed...Shakiim...that, that thing...in Buffy," he panted desperatly, and Willow dashed down the stairs, taking Spike to the couch to sit down.

"Spike, calm down and breath," Willow begged, bringing him a glass of water from the kitchen and setting it down on the cofee table.

"No! Ah bloody hell woman! Buffy is possessed by that filthy Shakiim!" Spike went on a rampage, angry fist sweeping the table, knocking the glass to shatter upon the floor, water soaking into the carpet and drenching the table.

"Hey Spike, calm down," Willow shyed from the insane vampire.

He heaved for breath, dragging in deep, ragged breaths, attempting to gain control.

"Sorry Red...a bit crazy. I followed her...followed it. We were laying in bed-,"

"Where you..?" Willow gasped.

"No Red," he gritted his teeth.

"Oh sorry, continue," Willow lowered her head.

"Right then...we were laying in bed, she shook, her eyes glowed...and she left...talking and walking like a bloody robot. I followed her, and she was walking towards the school...and she told me...told me she was trapped and...Shakiim...and I need to get her out!" Spike explained, fingers raking through his blond tresses in jolting strikes.

"Spike...calm down, I'm gonna rally the others and we will get Buffy back okay? I promise," Willow patted him on the shoulder and hurried from the room, only to return with her coat and shoes on.

"We're meeting at the Magic Box, come on," Willow led the masquerade from the door, Spike at her side, panting with anxiety.

* * *

"Okay...Shakiim, Shakiim, Shakiim," Anya muttered to herself, flipping through the modly pages of a new and different text book, concentration clearly instructed to her task of finding a cure of this possessing spirit,

Now that Buffy's life was on the line, the Scoobies were at their highest working level, despite the hour. Their vigil lasted until the next morning with Anya and Xander asleep in eachother's arms in the corner, scattered books at their sides, and Willow's red head resting on the book infront of her. Spike was the only one awake...he had been up all night and had even closed the blinds to keep sunlight out, and held one of the ten books he had reviewed vigilently and tirelessly.

"Hm...mmph," Willow stirred and shot up, wiping the small trickle of drool from her lips, "Spike!" 

"Yes Red?" His head never lifted from the book.

"What are you doing still awake? It's...," she paused to check her watch, "Eleven o'clock in the morning! It's daylight now!"

"I closed the blinds, don't open them," Spike replied.

"Oh...okay," Willow murmured with a yawn, stretching out in her chair, "Didja find anything?"

"No Red...nothing," he muttered irritably.

"Geeze, sorry," she returned his touchiness and poked softly at Anya and Xander until they were awoken from their slumber, drowsy and groggy.

"We have six days left in counting until Buffy loses all strength of mind and body she has and you people are loitering around sleeping," Spike grumbled.

"You do love her don't you?" Xander commented.

"What?" Spike craned his neck to eye the boy.

"Love her...you do don't you?" Xander repeated.

"Well...why I...yes," Spike nodded solomnly and returned to his book.

"Come on then, we have to get to work!" Anya jumped up, grabbing a nearby book and began to scan the pages.

"Right," Willow and Xander chorused in unison, copying off of Anya and going to work.

Spike couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Four days since Spike had last seen Buffy and mourned every night, howling to the heavens and screming his disapproval of her disappearence. He often visited the ally and the cemetary, scrutinizing the scenes for hours, awaiting her to appear...and when she never showed, he would leave, only to return a few hours later. Pain and yearning. These two things alone consumed him whole, and all the while he would inflict more pain upon himself for not finding her...for letting her emaciate in the body, in the mind of herself.

Then he jumped up, concluding what his plan of action would be.

"I must find her," he muttered, grabbing his billowing trench coat and exiting his crypt.

* * *

Buffy was tired. Four days had passed...she was slowly wasting away, and she could feel her brain failing, shrinking in mentality to that of an eight year old, and her body would wander around the campus, halting every few strides to calculate the measures of the grounds as if awaiting to strike and dig into the dirt. She sat within the corner of her mind, dilated nares drawing in deep breath and she didn't try to fight the spirit anymore, knowing that wasting her strength was...useless.

Suddenly she was jarred, the impetuous force throwing her forward in her head, and her fingers flew to the earth, digging up the dust and dirt particles in the ground, and she studied the scene, horror stricken. 

"At last...I am ready to retrieve that necklace," the voice rang through her head.

"What's going to happen after you get it?" Buffy inquired.

"I will dispose of you and become my regular self.

"I don't think so!" The masculine voice made Buffy nearly faint with relief, and she felt her body be lifted up and tied with binds and chains...manacles and locks.

"What are you doing you fools?" Shakiim shouted, writhing within the confines of the binds.

"Sorry Buffy...I mean Shakiim, you need to be watched," Willow answered as Xander and Spike lifted the bound body above their heads and carried her to the Magic Box.

There they tied her to a chair and Buffy continued to muse the Scoobies as they bustled about, searching the books.

"Hehe...they will never find the help they need...never find the remedy to me," Shakiim chuckled.

"Why?" Buffy questioned.

"Because my little one...it is not in the books!" Shakiim laughed with a supreme tone.

"But..but...why?" Buffy began to cry.

"Because...the remedy had never gotten to the book. But I know the remedy...the blood and tears of a lover," Shakiim laughed.

"Blood and tears...," Buffy repeated quietly.

"Too bad it can't be delivered...you have no lover!" Shakiim boomed.

But she did have a lover...a lover no one ever would have suspected...a creature which was the exact opposite of her nature and species...a creature of the night, an inevitable factor in the slayer's life...the vampire. Spike. She wept for him, because they would never find the cure...he would never find that she had found a 'bloody revelation' as he had stated...she loved him.

Then Buffy formed a plan. A ingenious for an eight year old...but the insolence of the age was a natural nutrient to her plan. She gathered her strength and screamed, loudly and willing her body to follow suit.

"Bood...t...te...lover...blood...tea...love-," she stammered, cut off by Shakiim's prowess and he reprimanded her, banishing her to the corner once more, alone with her tears.

"Blood...lover?" Willow repeated after the possessed slayer.

"Blood, lover and what?" Spike asked, rushing to her side and pleading.

"Blood of the lover...blood of the lover!" Anya jumped up, proud of herself for figuring out the puzzle.

"Blood of the lover?" Spike asked.

"Yes! She needs your blood!" Anya shouted excited, rushing to the back of the room for a knife...but when she returned, she watched as Spike bit through his own wrist, holding the spurting substance to her parted lips.

"Drink Buffy!" He tilted her head back and loomed closer toward sher bound body.

"I don't know if she returns my love...it might not work," Spike snapped his head up as he himself made a revelation...devastating but true.

"Well, we'll have to wait and see...Xander grab that chest, we'll need it just incase the demon is washed out," Anya instructed.

"Yes honey," he retrieved the box and held it open at the mouth of a now sleeping Buffy.

* * *

The next day...and Buffy's brain had shriveled, but she remained herself in what was left over, huddled alone and frightened. They had provided her blood...but no tears...she coughed and rasped, bitter and it hurt.

"How does it feel close to death Buffy Summers?" Shakiim asked, his face hovering over hers.

"It feels...wonderful," Buffy replied dreamily.

"Really? I would never know," Shakiim chuckled idly, "You only think it's wonderful because you're losing energy drastically...your last day alive."

"I...love...Spike," she panted, her eyelids drooping.

"Don't you worry...I will tell him," Shakiim grinned.

* * *

Spike incessantly focused his attention on Buffy. Her eyes were open, but they stared blankly at the wall, and then she snapped.

"Spike, she loves you. Too bad she won't be around for you to tell her the same...for you to know what it would be like...you two as lovers. She's subject to me, a victim in a half an hour," Shakiim informed him.

"Get out of her! Get out now!" Spike begged, "Take me instead!"

"I think not...I want to stay and watch her sould die...and as for you, thanks for the offer, I just might infest you next," Shakiim giggled.

"No!" Spike wailed, his head falling upon Buffy's lap.

* * *

Five minutes. Buffy was feeling weak and faint. _Will I now at last return to my 'Heaven'? Back to where I was before I was resurrected. I'm so sorry Spike._ And then she passed out, ready to go into death.

* * *

Spike gazed at his watch, rigid and tense. Five minutes. He grasped her limp hand which was tied behind the chair and lost control. He confessed his feelings and emotions to a Buffy who wasn't really there, tears spilling in torrents into his mouth with its brackish taste. They cascaded onto her lap, and then he kissed her one last time, a gentle brush of his lips and his tears fell, fell into the depths of her throat and he wept 

for the slayer he loved and lost for a second time."Curse!" Her head shot up and her eyes glowed once more, brilliant light illuminating, blinding the blonde vampire momentarily. Then she lay limp again and he untied the binds, hugging her body close, unaware of the transformation that just had happened.

A distinct _thud_ of a closing chest sounded, and Spike didn't bother to look over at the Scoobies who stood in quiescence, holding the arched lid closed...and he didn't take notice to the bumping and thumping going on inside the chest. He simply embraced her and held her close, head bowed over her neck and onto her back where he freely permitted his salty tears to fall, drenching the week old apparel which clothed her spine.

"Buffy...I'm so sorry...I'm so, so sorry," he sobbed.

"Mmm," Buffy stirred.

"Buffy, I tried! I'm so sorry," he bitterly cried, unaware of her movement.

"Spi...Spike...," she murmured weakly.

"Buffy," he breathed, holding her away from him in order to believe what he was seeing.

"Spike...I, I love you," she admitted, and slumped into his embrace.

And he held her, unaware as the Scoobies scuttled out the door, Anya leaving a 'closed' sign on the outside of the door. 

* * *

Buffy awoke later that day, and found herself in her bed, blinds and curtains closed. She rose slowly and looked around, spotting the brooding male vampire in the corner, sitting stagnate in a plush cushioned chair. When he looked up to check on the sleeping slayer he jumped up, moving swiftly to her side, kneeling to her eye level as she laid her head back downon the pillow.

"Buffy." 

It amazed her the many different ways he could say her name.

"Spike," she replied, hand protruding from the sheets and beginning to gently stroke his sculpted cheeck bones.

"Buffy...I was scared...thought I had lost you," he confessed, returning her affection.

"I thought I was going to meet death again…and this time, I didn't want to go to the heavenly place I was at last time before my resurrection…all I could think about was Sunnydale…and the people in it," Buffy whispered, confiding in the burly presence of the vampire.

"I know why…I love you, and you love me," he answered.

"Yes…I do," she nodded and he kissed her, but not that of burning passion, but of sultry love, and the desire was there, his desire which had kept him going was there…tangible. 

He touched her, and hugged her, slid beneath the sheets with her, and together they fused as one, rhythmically to unheard melody.

[Notes: *umph* -collapses- what a night! Er….day! Don't mind my writing folks…I wrote this at 1:00 AM in da morning, I worked on it without any break for three hours straight, I'm sorry if it's really, super confusing –sigh- please don't hit me with too much constructive critisism pwease –pleads- Hopefully I will be able to fix it soon if it's a problem….tootles –poof-]


	4. [Chapter 4: Amnesia]

Title: Forbidden, 4th Chapter

Author: . sLaYeReTTe .

Disclaimer: It was all Joss…

Setting: Taking place after the 3rd chapter

Summary: After a slaying incident, Spike takes up amnesia and his chip hits a malfunction…

Rating: PG-13 to R

[**Chapter 4: Amnesia**]

The ally reeked of vampire, and Buffy Summers wrinkled her nose, disgusted with such a fetid odor. 

"What are you turning your nose up for?" Spike chided.

"I can smell you," Buffy replied blandly.

"I don't smell that bad do I love?" He chuckled with amusement. 

"Hmm…," she cogitated sarcastically. 

"Well for your information, I happen to smell quite good for a vampire," he snorted in a 'thank-you-very-much' tone.

"I bet you d-," she was cut off, "Spike look out!"

The sickening thud of the crate hitting Spike in the head made Buffy cringe. She lunged at the demonic culprit and tackled it to the ground. It roared with ferocity into her intense countenance, causing her features to shrivel with repulse. 

"Gross, you need a breath mint!" She growled, driving the wooden instrument into its heart.

"One down…whoa! Two to go," Buffy chanted, leaping from the clutches of the second vamp and dodging its pitiful attempts to strike her with its balled fists.

"You're going to have to try harder than that," she advised, twisting and twirling, coming closer only to stop dead, steak rammed to the torso to watch the crumbling entrails.

"You're next," Buffy awaited the third to strike…but the brute fled, coward to the regnant slayer.

"Oh my God Spike!" She went down upon her knees and kneeled by the fallen vampire, attempting to lift the crate. 

With much strain on her part, she eventually rid his skull of the pressure and sat him up.

"Spike…speak to me," she gazed intently at the peroxide blonde.

"Mmph," he muttered in a daze.

"Spike…it's me Buffy," she stared quizzically.

"Who are you?" He managed, rubbing over the soar spot on his head, "You're very pretty," he added.

"Spike? It's…it's Buffy," she answered, horror sinking into the slayer.

"Buffy…Buffy…Buffy," he repeated her names until she thought her name would be worn out.

"And…who am I?" He asked.

"You…oh Spike," she held his skull close, gingerly felt depleted and jaded. 

"Spike? That's a cool name," he mumbled, looking perplexed as Buffy held him close.

"Spike, come on, we have to get you home," she whispered, aiding him as he stood, wobbling and insisted upon clinging to her apparel to keep him steady all the way to her home

* * *

"Willow! I'm home, get down here now!" Buffy shouted as she and a clinging Spike trounced into the dwelling.

"What is it Buffy? Oh what happened to Spike?" Willow exclaimed, examining the elevating bump on the right side of his head.

"Come in here," Buffy grunted, encumbered by the weight of the burly vampire.

She drug Spike into the living room and stationed him on the couch. Then she rushed to the kitchen, returning quickly with a cold compress.

"Here, put it on your head," Buffy instructed, handing the delusional Spike the cloth.

"Thanks…Buffy," he spoke her name again.

Buffy rolled her eyes skyward.

"Okay Wills…we were in the ally looking for those vamps, and one hit him over the head with the super heavy crate…and I'm pretty sure he's got amnesia…he couldn't remember my name or who he was either," Buffy explained, breathless and flustered by the time she was finished.

"Oh my," Willow breathed, grabbing the cold compress as Spike attempted to put it in his mouth, "No Spike, up here…he must be having momentary brain malfunctions," Willow added dryly.

"Ugh! I don't know what to do!" Buffy moaned.

"I'm hungry," Spike interrupted.

Buffy averted her gaze to the vampire, eyes narrowing a look of apprehension crawling across her embellished features. Spike's ensnaring optics took on a lustful shade and Buffy shuddered, having a revelation. She stood up.

"Willow…get behind me," Buffy commanded, eyes never wavering from Spike's hungry gaze.

Willow obeyed and cowered behind the slayer.

* * *

Something in Spike's head snapped. Hunger…and need. Desire…intense desire. His tongue elicited, protruding from his parched labrums and he laughed an evil laugh. He watched as the victim of choice hid behind this…Buffy character and he grinned, fangs visible as he took on demonic visage.

"Come now…I won't bite," he promised.

"Stay away," Buffy warned.

"I have a craving for blood…and right now…you two look quite…delicious," Spike laughed maliciously and jumped up, clairvoyant vision finding a sensuous, addicting pulse there…that must be his target. 

The bloodlust multiplied and his whole body screamed 'now'! He lunged, only to be punched back by Buffy, and he groaned as he hit the floor with a _thud!_ He glared miscreant and insanely ailed by the intense hunger. With a horrific roar, he darted from the ajar door and into civilization.

"Oh shit," Buffy groaned, her forehead smacking listlessly against her palm.

"I guess we need to warn everyone," Willow suggested.

"Yea…um…you call Xander and Anya…keep Dawn here at home, lock the doors and meet me at the Magic Box in an hour…bring ropes and binds, I'm going to bring Spike," Buffy instructed, authority in her tone ruling over Willow as she scurried to the phone.

* * *

The blonde vampire scanned the crowds and was impressed by the number of heartbeats and pulses he picked up. So many victims…and so little time! How idle and amusing he found this. A derelict male ducked across the traffic and into a back ally. Bingo. Spike moved swiftly, nimbly delivered within five sweeping strides at the back of his first subject.

The boy sensed something at his back and he froze, turning to see the pernicious creature at his back.

"Wh-wh-what do you want?" The boy stammered, unable to keep the horror from his tone.

"What do I want? What I want is blood," Spike answered, "I'm a killer…and I've gone quite a while without such a promising elixir."

"Now easy there big guy," the boy held up his hands in surrender. 

"I think not," Spike growled, lunging forward and savoring the succulent flavor as his fangs penetrated the vulnerable flesh, extracting the crimson fluids, which flowed within the victim's veins.

At last! He felt as if he had retaliated and his own vitality had been restored. He dropped the shriveled, frail corpse and left it in the ally before darting after yet another…

* * *

Buffy walked downtown into the rush of evening traffic and realized that the streets were semi empty. Her heart increased beats and she was so certain everyone within five miles of her could hear it. Then a scream, shrill and cacophonous filled the air, causing Buffy to jump. She headed at a dead run, stake out, towards the ally. There Spike was, two other bodies littered at his feet while he drained a third, the droplets of the thick fluid dripping down his lips as he greedily sucked. 

"Spike, stop it," Buffy threatened, waving the stake around her head.

The vampire subsided, but finished his meal and eyed the slayer.

"Buffy?"

"Leave them alone," she repeated.

"What do you want?" He growled, carelessly wiping the blood from his chin.

"I want you to stop," she answered.

"Oh really…well I'm hungry too! And besides…," he grinned devilishly, "What are you going to do with that?"

"I'm going to drive it through your heart and make you dust at my feet," she replied, nonchalant the screaming pang in her head which urged her to put the weapon down…that she was in love with this…this monstrosity.

"Is that how this blood sucking process works?" He chuckled pointedly.

"Spike…," she warned, forcing herself to choke back the hurt in her voice…_this is like Angel all over again._

"Buffy…come now pet," he grinned playfully.

"Spike, I'm counting to five," Buffy threatened, "One…"

"You couldn't take me," he scoffed, moving in a circle around the slayer.

"Two…"

"In fact, I know you couldn't."

"Three…"

"You don't have the guts do you?"

"Four…"

"I can see it in your eyes…fear Buffy…fear," he smirked.

"Five…that's it Spike, you asked for it," she lunged, fist jabbing him in the jowl, and when he lowered his head to touch gingerly at the pained jaw, she kicked him over the head and winced as his body hit the asphalt.

"I'm sorry 'lover'…I didn't want to hurt you," she whispered, still in defensive poise.

"Well you did….bloody hell!" he cursed.

She landed a right hook on the side of his head and knocked him out, intentionally devising her plan to get him 'willingly' to the Magic Box.

* * *

The door to the Magic Box swung open and the Scoobies watched intently as the slayer dragged the limp figure through the doorframe. She grunted against the burly weight of the male vampire and finally came to a rest in front of a chair. She struggled for air, panting in short gasps.

"A little help here please?" She motioned breathlessly to the fallen Spike.

"Oh, yea, sure," Willow jumped up and together they heaved the unconscious blonde into the binds and security confinements of the plush seat.

"Whoa…how'd you manage that Buff?" Xander commented, eyeing Spike as his pate lolled upon his shoulder.

"I, I don't know. A, and I don't want to know," she stammered, turning from the sight of the flaccid figurine.

Xander and Willow exchanged glances, aware of the situation. 

"Come on Xander, I think there's a book on Amnesia in the back room," Willow motioned.

"Um, yea, right," Xander nodded, picking up quickly and following her back.

They arrived within the recesses of the shady room and huddled near a few of the shelves which held a number of miscellaneous bits and pieces, detected here and there from their previous odysseys. 

"What are we going to do?!" Willow exclaimed, stricken with panic.

"Okay, first we need to calm down and think," Xander advised.

"Okay…calm down…calm down. I cant!" Willow replied, attempting to regulate her shaky tone to a moderate whisper.

"Well…if Spike doesn't get his memory back soon…or the chip kicks back into gear, there's no way we're going to be able to keep him chained and tied like an animal," Xander reasoned.

"But poor Buffy…," Willow softened.

"Yeah I know…she's been through this with Angel," Xander recalled, reminiscing upon the past when the vampire's soul had been erased.

"We can't let it happen again," Willow pleaded.

"I know…but how?" he puzzled.

They heard sobbing from the interior of the shop. Xander and Willow once again exchanged apprehensive glances and darted quietly towards the door. There they saw Buffy, sitting directly across the motionless male, desperately raking at her sun-kissed features, ridding them of the brackish liquid.

"Oh Spike…I'm so sorry," she apologized, burying her face in her cupped palms.

Willow turned to face Xander.

"We have _got_ to do something…we can't let her go through this again," she declared and gingerly stepped over to the choked slayer.

"Sh Buffy…it's okay," she assured her, laying a hand on the violently jerking shoulder.

"No…it's not," Buffy heaved.

"Well…okay, maybe it's not…but it's gonna' be okay," Willow attempted a smile.

"I'm going to have to kill him aren't I?" Buffy whispered sullenly.

"No! It's not going to be like last time Buff…we're gonna cure Spike! I, I promise!" Willow encouraged, confidence dripping from her words.

"No…there's now way…no way he can be cured unless miraculously he regains his memory…God Willow…I shouldn't have let him come patrol with me," Buffy blamed herself.

__

Not that I could have stopped him though…

"Don't say that Buffy…you didn't…you couldn't have known."

"Well I should have considered it."

__

Now she really sounded pathetic.

Spike stirred and both females diverted their pensive gazes, and fixated them upon the vampire.

* * *

"O…Ouch. Where am I?" He muttered as the pain hit him in a wave of frenzied intensity.

No one answered his question.

"Buffy…you sodding bitch," he bristled, and enjoyed the sight as she winced at his beastial words.

He was delighted to find his hands untied by the bondage and he meekly fumbled for the tie.

"Spike…," she breathed, and he could tell he was tearing her up.

"What do you want from me slayer?" He growled, "I know what I am…I've tasted it."

"You know what you are…but you don't know who you are," she whispered softly.

"Oh but I do…I am a brutal killing machine," he said coolly, admiring the sad look which settled in on the slayer.

"No…you're not. Try to remember Spike…you and me," she urged, a note of desperation in her innocent tone.

"Remember? There's nothing to remember slayer," he snorted defiantly.

But then pain came again, a sudden jolt to his head and he howled, writhing within the manacles of the chair. The pain subsided as quickly as it had come, and he lay limp once again, panting, and gasping for breath after the small episode.

"Chip…bloody hell, there's a chip in my head!" He screamed, horrified.

"Yeah…do you remember?" Buffy perked inevitably.

Her interest in him sparked something within the vampire…but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"Just a chip…," he murmured, clearly perplexed.

"Oh," she looked disappointed.

"Well slayer…our game is over," he smiled cynically.

"What are you talking about Spike?" she demanded.

He stood up, holding the broken and unraveled binds within his pallid fingers.

"And now it's my turn," he hissed, lunging at the slayer in a lightening-quick reflex, pinning her to the ground, finding her useless and vulnerable.

"I've been craving a taste of you since I laid eyes on you," he chuckled maliciously and lowered his head, looming hungrily above her neck.

"Spike…no…," she struggled to free herself of the fatal situation.

"Yes slayer…," he replied huskily.

"Ow! Oh bloody hell!" He shrieked as the pain paralyzed him for a second, and he flew back, ailed by an unknown pain.

* * *

It sunk in. Spike's chip had re-activated. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief and let her eyes drift upon the contracted breaths, which emitted, labored by the pain.

"Willow, Xander hurry!" Buffy motioned to the ropes as she struggled to reconfirm what had just happened.

* * *

Spike awoke once again, this time finding himself in…_a bathtub!_ Devoid of water…and for that matter anything. Just an empty bathtub…he went to get up, but was surprised to find himself shackled to the depression in the tub.

"What the devil?" He grumbled, ripping desperately at the chains.

He looked around the cavernous area and found it strangely…familiar. Déjà vu, intense and haunting, stirring a memory as it struggled to pass the seemingly inexorable surface of where the amnesia lay, embedded in his brain. He saw the slayer. She sat solo upon the couch, features scrunched diligently, wistful stare into nothingness once again igniting a commencing retrospect. Then the vision faded, and he growled in frustration. 

She looked up, startled by the eliciting sound and eyed him with a gaze of pure adoration. It made him soften somewhat…and he wondered why.

"Slayer," he rasped, "Get me out of here."

"Sorry Spike…no can do," she replied, "Not until you shape up."

"Bloody hell woman, get me out of here now!" he roared.

"No Spike…I can't," she answered firmly, leaving the crypt-like haven and exiting without so much as a backward glance.

[Notes: Okay…there. –sticks tongue out- how's this? I wrote it without the goddamn thesaurus! Keep in mind, I refuse to restrict myself from using some words…because you see, I am an RPG'er, and I've grown accustomed to some…'larger words', if you will…and so I will use some here and there. Thanks for the constructive critisism…I admit it will be a hard habit to break, but I'm working on it 0.o]


End file.
